Mako sits down right next to him, uncaring about the dust getting on her skirt. She opens a bright pink bento box.
"Listen to this," she begins, her blue eyes wide with fresh information. "Yuta from Class 3 told Kenji that the math teacher is secretly dating the school nurse."
Renjiro says nothing. He chews his bread.
"And Kenji told me," Mako continues, totally unfazed by his silence, "that they saw them at the grocery store buying the exact same brand of green tea. Isn't that crazy?"
It isn't crazy. It is a huge leap in logic based on beverage preferences. But pointing out the flaws in her gossip requires speaking. Speaking requires energy.
Renjiro pays the tax. He sits there and lets her energetic voice wash over him. As long as Mako is talking his ear off, nobody else approaches him. She acts as a buffer. A highly effective, incredibly noisy human shield.
When the bell rings, Mako struggles to close her bento box. The plastic latch is stuck.
Renjiro reaches over, pinches the plastic tab, and clicks it shut in one second. He hands it back to her, pulls himself up the brick wall with a heavy grunt, and starts the long, dragging walk back to class.
"Thanks, Renji!" she calls out, jogging to catch up.
He just shoves his hands into his pockets.
Middle school only amplifies the problem. The student body grows larger. The social circles become vastly more complicated.
Renjiro views the shifting cliques and teenage drama as a massive, exhausting puzzle that he refuses to solve. He keeps his head down, perfecting the art of looking mildly busy so teachers never call on him.
Mako blooms into a social butterfly. She joins the track team. She knows everyone's first name, their crushes, and their favorite snacks.
And yet, she still finds him.
Second year of middle school. A rainy Thursday afternoon. Renjiro hides in the abandoned stairwell leading to the rooftop.
The door is locked, making the top landing a perfect, undisturbed pocket of space. He lays flat on his back on the cold concrete, staring up at the water stains on the ceiling.
The heavy metal door at the bottom of the stairs creaks open.
Footsteps echo up the concrete shaft. Light, fast, rhythmic.
"Renji," Mako's voice floats up the stairwell. "I know you're up there. Your umbrella is dripping in the hallway."
Rookie mistake. He should have shaken it off outside.
Mako appears at the top of the stairs. She does not even pause to catch her breath. She drops a canned coffee on his chest. The cold metal smacks hard against his collarbone.
"Drink that," she says. "You look half dead."
Renjiro slowly peels one eye open and leaves the can resting on his chest. "I was successfully hibernating."
"Well, wake up. The home economics club baked too many cookies and the girls in my class are fighting over who gets the chocolate chip ones. It's a disaster."
"Let them fight."
"I can't just do that," Mako sighs. She slides down the wall to sit near his head. "They're my friends. But Ayaka is crying now."
Renjiro calculates the variables. If Mako goes back down there without a solution, she will complain about it to him tomorrow.
If Ayaka keeps crying, the teacher will get involved. If the teacher gets involved, the whole class might get a lecture. A lecture means staying after the bell. Staying after the bell cuts into his scheduled nap time at home.
The school's hassle outweighs the effort required to fix it.
"Tell Ayaka-san the chocolate chip ones are burned on the bottom," Renjiro says, his voice a flat monotone.